Do No Wrong
by OverSweetNightmare
Summary: Kyman! Slight Style! Inspired by Santeria by Sublime. "...without Kyle... your life is empty and hollow." Those words planted the seeds of obsession. Cartman gets what he wants, and he wants Kyle. Stan is in his way... but not for long. Oneshot.


**Oh, FanFiction, how you hate me. Apparently the original author's notes have vanished into the nether. ._. Not like anyone misses my rambling, though, right? XD**

**So here's a condensed version of the original: OSN was bored. OSN wanted to write something exciting. OSN got a review from OhMyRawr on Date Rape suggesting a fic related to the Sublime song Santeria. And then, there was a magical moment filled with inspirational montage music, and OSN had an idea. This idea blossomed into the thing you see before you. It is most certainly inspired by Santeria, and not like Date Rape where the lyrics were merely changed.**

**OSN... er, _I _hope that you enjoy the story. As it was before, thank you OhMyRawr for the inspiration. Now read this craziness.**

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Have you ever wanted something so badly that it just ate away at your soul when you thought about it?

Have you ever wanted something so badly that you cried yourself to sleep at night when you fantasized about it?

Have you ever wanted something so badly that you'd kill for it?

..

My name is Eric Cartman. You may know me. You may not. But that doesn't matter. No, what matters is why I'm here, what I'm doing. My story. My reason for living, and… my reason for killing. You can't tell anyone what I'm going to tell you. If you do, you won't wake up tomorrow morning. I'll do anything to keep my secret. If it gets out, everything I've worked for will be gone.

I just… need to tell someone.

So sit down. Shut your mouth. Open your ears.

I'm not going to repeat myself.

..

It started a long time ago, in fourth grade. One of our stupid little adventures brought to light something I'd never understood, never given any thought to. It wasn't the adventure so much as… him, though. What he said to me. What he made me realize.

It was the hybrid cars. They made people smug, and that released an actual gas called smug, and it was this awful thing that could destroy entire cities. But before we knew that, Kyle Broflovski's father got a hybrid. He got smug. The Broflovskis moved to San Francisco, and for the first time in many years, my worst adversary was away from me. I thought I would be happy.

I wasn't.

And he knew it.

When Kyle was about to move and I was celebrating, his pussylicker friend Stan said to me, "You know, Cartman, you may be stoked now, but I bet you're gonna find that without Kyle around to rip on, your life is empty and hollow."

He was right.

Butters wasn't a thing like Kyle. He didn't get all angry when I insulted him. He didn't object to my evil ideas. He didn't care about anything but being my friend, and I hated that, because Kyle never cared. He knew we were friends in the same weird way that I knew the same thing. He didn't try to keep it that way. Butters was too eager to stay with me, too gullible to object to my morals, to nice to care if I called him a buttfucker Jew pig.

I needed Kyle.

I _needed_ Kyle.

And that was the very beginning of all this, of this huge mess I've made of myself and everything around me.

There was a smug storm, and I went to San Francisco and saved Kyle from it, and he never knew because I never told him. Stan was happy to have his friend back, the town was happy the Broflovskis had survived, and I had my Jew without him knowing how happy that made me. Everything was just fine.

Except… it wasn't.

The seeds of obsession had been planted. At nine years old, I didn't quite get it yet. But it was there. It manifested itself in staying closer to him, looking into his eyes longer, struggling to make him pay attention to _me_ and no one else. And when it came to light that I was too close to him, I would back away, insult him more, make sure it was obvious that I hated him.

But by the next week I would be at his side again, trying to be the sole center of his attention. If I could help him, I would. If I could make him angry with me, I would. I would do anything to make him focus on _me_ and no one else, just _me me me._

When I faked Tourettes, he focused on me and only me.

When I wanted him to suck my balls, he couldn't get away from me.

When we both had HIV, he was forced to partner up with me.

And it was all so _perfect._

I still didn't understand, even then. I didn't think about it. I just did it. Anything to get him close to me, anything to make him stay. So what if he punched me in the face? So what if he screamed at the top of his lungs at me? So what if he was insulting me?

He was focused.

On.

_ME._

..

It took a good few years until my need for him took a sudden turn. No surprise that it was during puberty. We were all fourteen or so, older and smarter and still going on crazy adventures.

Kyle was beautiful.

I don't remember when I realized that, but I did, and nothing in me wanted to deny it. So I let it sit in my mind. Even when I called him a big nosed ugly kike, I knew in my mind that he was beautiful, and that was good enough for me.

The Jewfro had been tamed, and his pretty red curls hung around his gorgeous face, hung above his lovely green eyes, and draped against his thin, pale neck… His body was thin and small, but it held so much power, so much intimidation. I was a good five inches taller than him and he scared me sometimes. And I liked it.

But even as I realized this, it never clicked in my head that I wanted him _that_way. He was a pretty boy, a girly boy, but not… _my_ boy. He was my adversary, my arch nemesis, and he knew that as well as I did and we kept on fighting and arguing and insulting. And everything was just fine that way.

Besides being beautiful, Kyle was gay.

We didn't address it at first, not even when he was out of the room. But it was kind of obvious. He turned down each and every girl that asked him out, no matter how pretty or attracted to his ass they were. He wore tight clothes and enjoyed girly things and turned his head when guys walked by.

Stan didn't mention it because he was Kyle's friend, and he would never out him like that.

Kenny didn't mention it because he didn't mind.

I didn't mention it because I just didn't.

I knew, deep down, that he would hate me for it and get mad and focus on me again like I wanted. But I held back anyway. Something about it felt wrong, like calling him out for looking at guys might make him leave me forever. He wouldn't, I didn't think, but I trusted my instincts and left it alone.

How could I call him out for it if I thought of him as beautiful, anyway?

..

The months passed. I grew closer and closer to Kyle, even as I insulted and degraded him. I cared less and less about Kenny and Butters and Stan, choosing instead to devote my time to satisfying my need for Kyle. We hung out alone sometimes, mostly at my house. We would play video games for hours. I loved it, because once again, he was paying attention to me and only me. We were alone, and I could do anything to him, even though there was nothing I really wanted to do.

When he was sixteen, he officially came out.

Stan congratulated him and promised to stay by his side.

Kenny offered to find him some hot guys.

I shrugged and asked him if he could help me with my homework.

I figured he would get mad at me for completely ignoring it, but instead, he got all happy and gave me a hug. Kyle had almost never hugged me before. I looked to our friends for help, but they were just as stunned as I was. After a moment I hugged him back. When he pulled away, he said he'd finished his homework and I could copy it if I wanted. He'd never done that before, either.

Later, he admitted that he thought I was going to rip on him like never before when he came out, and he'd actually been scared because it would have made him so upset. I was shocked he was telling me that. He was full of surprises that day. I confessed that I'd known for a long time, and I didn't really care if he was gay or not because I'd grown up in a gay friendly town anyway.

I wasn't sure if that was true, but he accepted it happily.

He was happy because of me, and it made me feel good.

The seeds of obsession had grown into saplings.

..

When Kyle was seventeen, he started dating Stan.

None of us saw it coming.

Wendy left Stan a few weeks earlier, but we thought he was completely straight. He would get back with her or some other girl. But there they were, telling me and Kenny they were together and loving it.

Apparently, I'd missed the signs. I watched Kyle all the time but I thought the looks he gave Stan were looks of friendship and admiration, not… love and attraction. And when he told Stan he liked him, Stan said they could try it, and after a few days of enjoying it they told us. And they figured they were the most perfect couple ever.

I knew Kyle would get a boyfriend someday, but I'd never given it much thought because deep down I really didn't want to. I told myself I didn't like him _that_ way. I barely liked people enough to befriend them, let alone be attracted to them… there were the few girls way back when, but as Kyle became the focus of my attention I forgot about them. I just never realized that in doing so, I was connected to him in more ways that I thought.

Stan's newfound role in his life made me angry.

That was it, just angry. Kyle focused on Stan, didn't have much time for the things I loved doing with him. It was just anger. Not fury, not hatred, just anger. I figured it would be done soon, they would split up, this was too much for them to handle.

Weeks passed.

Months passed.

They were going strong.

And when the anger changed, it was because the obsession changed. At some point during Kyle's relationship with his former best friend, the saplings of obsession became towering redwood oaks, and I wanted him.

I wanted Kyle Broflovski.

If he was my boyfriend, he would pay attention to me and only me, just like I'd always wanted. I wouldn't even need to make him angry or upset. He would just focus on me naturally. He would always want to be around me. He would want to do everything with me. At first, obviously, I wasn't thinking of a real relationship; just a way to keep him close.

At first, I disregarded love, sacrifice, and sex. None of it entered my mind. All I thought of was that he would stay with me if we dated. That was enough, wasn't it?

But as I watched them together… it came naturally. His beauty, my need for him, everything… it melded into a passionate desire for him, more than satisfying myself but satisfying him as well. He could be the affection and caring I'd never truly had, and I could be the man who gave him everything he wanted.

I didn't question it. There was no need to. Everything I think – everything I want – is right. Everything I desire is a good thing. If I wanted Kyle Broflovski to love me, so be it. If I was gay, so be it. Except I wasn't. I wanted him and only him. No one else mattered. I didn't question that either. If that's how I was, then it was right, because everything I do is right.

I don't do wrong.

He and Stan worked because of how close they'd been prior to their dating. It was only a small step for them to begin kissing or caressing each other or dancing or whatever else they did. I watched them when they did these things, observing them because I wanted to know what Kyle liked, how Stan was so wonderful… but even as I did so my rage grew. I hated Stan. I hated him for having Kyle, hated him for taking away the one thing I wanted more than anything.

Kyle, though, had become my equal. I loved him. I could only love perfection, and perfection is me, so he was my equal.

Like me, Kyle could do no wrong.

Forget being a Jew. Forget being a Daywalker.

Kyle did no wrong.

Everything was his parents' fault or Stan's fault or the world's fault, because if Kyle was like me then he could never, ever take the blame. Not in my eyes.

Kyle did everything right.

It was Stan's fault Kyle loved him, Stan's fault Kyle didn't pay attention to me, Stan's fault I couldn't have the object of my desire. Kyle hadn't been shown the light yet, guided the right way. He was only misled, for he would never, ever do wrong.

So it was my job to lead him in the right direction, my job to bring him to me so he could be with someone worthy of his time. But I didn't know how to do that. If I told him outright that Stan was terrible for him and he should get with me, he would be angry, but not in the way I liked. He wasn't attracted to me because he didn't know how good of an idea it was. And he didn't want to leave Stan, because he'd been led to believe that Stan was perfect for him. So what could I do?

The obsession got worse day by day. Every time I saw him, it hurt worse that I wasn't with him, that he wasn't paying any attention to me. It consumed me. He was all I ever saw, all I ever wanted. I lost weight because I forgot to eat, lost friends because I forgot they existed, lost grades because I didn't care to do a thing about it. It was Kyle, Kyle, Kyle, all the goddamned time. I had to have him. But _how?_

One night, as I was crying myself to sleep over the lost opportunities, the happy once-upon-a-times, and what that pussylicker said to me that made me become this way, I finally came up with the perfect idea to make Kyle mine.

Step one: Kill Stan.

..

_Tell Stan that if he knows what's good for him he'd best go run and hide… Eric's got a new .45._

_And I won't think twice to stick that barrel straight down Stan's throat._

_Believe me when I say that I've got something for his punk ass._

..

Death is something I've dealt with plenty of times in my life. Kenny, my father, Chef, countless people I didn't know… So what does death matter, if it happens all the time? I'll make sure I don't die, and Kyle doesn't die, because this world can't live without some form of perfection. But no one else matters, or ever did matter. Especially not Stan. He's always done things wrong. He thought he was our leader, he cared too much for people, he handed his heart to Wendy, he took Kyle… Stan was wrong.

Since I was right, if I wanted Stan dead, then it was okay. I did no wrong. Others would be misled, though, and think I'd done wrong. So I had to make sure no one knew who had killed him.

My mother kept a gun in her drawer. I could use that. And as long as there were no witnesses, there would be no way for them to connect it to me. No one would try very hard to, anyway. Barbrady was still useless, as well as the detectives, and no one would ever suspect me because I've never showed an unnatural hatred for Stan. Only Kyle. I knew I would get away with it, and I knew I would have Kyle.

Stan's life wasn't worth more than my happiness.

..

Everything about that night is crystal clear. I remember every detail. Every single one.

"Put the gun down, Cartman," Stan whispered quietly. "There's no reason to do this."

I advanced upon him, the barrel pointed right between his eyes, my finger hovering just over the trigger. I was going to do it. No going back.

"Do you remember what you said to me when Kyle was moving to California?"

A strange look crossed over his face, one of confusion and fear, and I patiently waited for him to remember. It didn't seem like he would. He continued to look at me, eyes staying off the gun despite it being right in his field of vision.

"You told me that without him, my life is empty and hollow."

His eyes widened. They were so dark, so blue. Fleeting memories of past adventures came… and went. He meant nothing to me. He was only the wall standing between me and Kyle.

"Cartman, listen to me. I don't know what you want. But I'll give it to you. Please… please don't kill me. Kyle can't take it. He'll break down, Cartman, he won't be able to go on, he loves me –"

The sound… it was deafening. But it filled me with a power I'd never felt before.

I lowered the gun and backed away from Stan's crumpled body. I hadn't touched him at all. I hadn't touched a thing in this alleyway. It was like I'd never been there. I didn't need to hide him.

I walked away with a smile.

..

I walked into the church in my best formal outfit, wearing an expression of sorrow I'd mastered over the years. It didn't take long for me to find Kyle. He was crying even louder than Stan's mother, who was wailing bad enough as it was. I was disgusted by her, but I felt bad for him.

It was Stan's fault for making Kyle love him so much, and Stan's fault for driving me to kill him.

I slipped past the mourners and made my way to Kyle's side. At first, I was unsure of what to do. He was alone here, without relative or friend… perhaps he wanted it that way? Or maybe he was truly alone here, without any support at all. I decided to just take charge and help as much as I could.

I grabbed Kyle and pulled him into a tight hug.

Much to my delight, he gripped the lapels of my jacket tightly and buried his face in my chest. I didn't say a word. Instead, I held him close to my body with one hand and ran the fingers of the other through his beautiful red hair. He didn't object in the slightest; rather, he leaned into every touch in an almost desperate sort of way. That was exactly what I wanted. What I needed.

But… he still wasn't focusing on _me_. But that was okay. I would let him focus on Stan for now. It was Stan's fault, after all, and Kyle couldn't be blamed for being so sad.

As the pastor began to recite the eulogy, Kyle remained where he was, his face buried in my chest and hands tightly gripping my jacket. He'd stopped crying, but there were still sniffles and hiccups, and I could practically feel the sorrow radiating off of his body. I continued to pet his hair and hold him as I listened to the sad words being spoken just above Stan's coffin.

It eventually came time for those close to him to come up and say all those nice things about him. I recalled how strong Kyle had been so many years ago at Chef's funeral, and the strong speech he'd given… I wondered if he could do it again.

But when I asked him in a whisper if he wanted to say anything, he started crying again, so I took that as a no.

After the service, Kyle's father showed up, and he gently pried his son off of me and took him home. I hated him for taking Kyle from me, but I knew he would have to go and rest eventually. That was how he was. He needed to rest when he was upset. But that was okay. Everything he did was fine by me.

I wondered if, maybe, he had only held onto me because of his grief. Even if he had, though, I would make him mine. It wouldn't take too long.

..

The next day, when I was alone at my house, Kyle showed up. I wasn't expecting him at all, but I was delighted to see him. He looked awful… there were dark circles under his eyes, and his hair was disheveled, and his shoulders were slumped, but he was still beautiful to me. I brought him inside and sat him down on my couch.

When I asked him why he was there, instead of answering me, he hugged me.

Instead of going to Kenny or Butters or Ike or his mom or dad for comfort, he had come to me.

I wrapped my arms around him and held him close, and I could feel his heartbeat hammering away in his little chest. There were no words, no sobs, no sound… We just held onto each other. I wished he could understand how much of this was honestly Stan's fault; maybe then he wouldn't be so sad. It hurt to see him sad, which was a foreign feeling for me, but I accepted it. But if I told him it was Stan's fault he would be angry with me… his morals are different from mine. He's been misled.

But that's okay.

I stroked his hair and rubbed his back and gently rocked him back and forth, and he seemed to enjoy it all.

At some point, he did start crying, and I held him tighter and let him wipe his face on my shirt. There had been a time in my life when I cherished his tears, when all I wanted was to make him cry and savor his sorrow… But now it hurt. I wanted him to be happy. I wanted him to forget Stan and be happy with me. But I wouldn't rush it… I would let him go at his own pace. That's what he wanted to do anyway. I would respect that because I loved him, and that's what you do when you love someone.

After a while, he pulled away from me and curled up next to the arm of the couch. I gave him time, and when he was ready he started talking about everything. He told me how much he loved Stan. He told me how painful it was that he had died. He told me that he felt like his world was falling apart, that everything he'd worked for and lived for was suddenly gone. He told me that he felt like he wanted to die just so he could see Stan again.

He told me that he wanted to torture Stan's killer.

I gathered him into my arms and held him against my chest again, and he sobbed out a 'thank you so much' before he completely broke into hysterics.

I didn't say a word. I just held him and stroked him and loved him.

..

"What's your game, Cartman?"

I remember Kenny asking me that one cold morning at Stark's Pond.

"What game?" I replied confusedly.

Kenny's normally light, cheerful eyes were as cold as the ice covering the pond. I'd never seen him look like that, even when I insulted his poverty.

"You don't care that Stan's dead, do you?"

I frowned deeply at him. I couldn't recall a single thing I'd done to give off the impression that I wasn't sad over Stan's death. I hadn't cried, no, but I didn't do that a lot anyway. I was quiet and withdrawn, I always looked my saddest… what had I done to give Kenny such an idea?

"Kenny, Stan was my friend," I said firmly. "What makes you think I'm not upset?"

"You've been hanging around Kyle an awful lot."

I stood up from the bench and looked down at him a bit irritably. "Kyle needs someone right now, and you should know that, Kenny! He's grieving worse than either of us!"

Kenny's eyes narrowed. "True. But there's something… wrong about all of this. I'm onto you, asshole."

Before I could reply, Kyle came into view, dragging his feet on the ground and holding himself pathetically. When he looked up and saw me, he seemed to brighten just a little, and he meandered over to the two of us. Without a word, he threw his arms around me and buried his face in my side.

Kenny was still glaring at me as he walked away from us.

..

I made sure to never try and coax Kyle to be near me. I let him come to me only when he wanted to, like an abused dog who couldn't take being forced and tugged any longer. But the truth was that he came to me all the time, so I barely had to consider ever going to him. For the first time in his life, Kyle needed me.

Well… there was that one time with the kidney issue.

But this time he needed someone to lean on, someone to keep him tethered to life. I was that person. And honestly, I couldn't be happier with it. When he needed to cry or vent, he came to me, and every time he did he would hug me or snuggle up to me. He wanted to be near me. In some small, miniscule way, I made him feel better over the loss of his pussylicker boyfriend.

As the months passed, that miniscule bit of happiness began to grow. On Kyle's eighteenth birthday I managed to make him smile for the first time since the funeral. And all I had to do was give him a fond kiss on the cheek. His family looked mortified, and Kenny looked furious, but Kyle gave me a tiny little grin. And I gave him the world's biggest smile in return and pulled him into a hug.

On my eighteenth birthday, Kyle returned the favor. And when he pulled away he was grinning like I hadn't seen him grin in so long, and it made me so happy that I just wanted to kiss him full on the lips. And yet… I didn't think he'd let me. Not yet. So I just pulled him into another hug and kissed his nose. And he giggled, and I felt like I was on top of the world.

Kenny was more suspicious than ever.

And one day, when he confronted me, Kyle blew up on him in my defense.

I'd never felt better in my entire life.

Kyle trusted me, not only with himself but also my innocence on the matter of having anything to do with Stan's murder. It was like the thought hadn't even crossed his mind. I was delighted with it, completely elated, and I knew that Kenny and Stan had lost and I had won. Kyle Broflovski would be mine, and no one would stop it.

..

Sometimes, when Kyle and I were just hanging out, he would suddenly burst into tears. Or he would bolt out of the cafeteria and I would find him sobbing in the boy's bathroom. But his outbursts had become few and far between, and I knew he was getting better. Maybe it would be a few years before he was truly over Stan. And usually, I wouldn't force myself to wait that long for _anything._ But I could wait for Kyle. I could wait for him as long as it took.

..

When Christmas rolled around, instead of spending time with his family, Kyle stayed with me as often as he could. When I asked him why, he said he'd rather be near me because they would force him into the cheer whether he was in the mood or not. Hanukkah was over but the holiday spirit was still everywhere, and he'd had enough of being with people who couldn't seem to handle how down he was. I was delighted with that tiny confession – he really did appreciate how I let him voice his emotions.

When I started setting up decorations, Kyle listened with a surprising amount of eagerness as I patiently explained the purpose of everything I was using. He knew about the tree and the stockings, but what about the garland and lights? What about the candy canes on every third branch? What about the gingerbread house and the reindeer-shaped cookies and the cinnamon candles? And what was with the log of beef?

I explained each and every one just as he asked and just as I set them out, and he would listen with no interruptions, seemingly fascinated with my traditions. I figured that last Christmas he'd spent time with his family, like always, or Stan would have had the time to tell him all these things. Then again, I'd never seen him express any sort of interest in Christmas in the first place. Unless Mr. Hankey was involved.

At some point, Kyle looked over and asked me if the little twig hanging in the nearby doorway was mistletoe. At first, I was surprised that he even knew what mistletoe was; but then I figured that Jew or no, he'd probably seen enough cliché Christmas movies. _Everyone_ has seen those movies. I told him it was, and he gave me one of his rare, truly happy smiles.

He didn't say anything about it; there was only that beautiful smile of his.

As the days until the holiday passed, I didn't hear very much from or about Kyle's family at all. I was certain that they weren't happy about their son being with me and celebrating my holiday instead of spending the better portion of December with them, but apparently they weren't trying very hard to make him stop. That, or he just refused to speak about it. But I didn't mind. His parents were wrong to dislike it anyway, wrong to keep him from what he wanted.

On Christmas Eve, Kyle insisted upon staying the night because he wanted to be with us for Christmas… if we didn't mind. I certainly didn't, and neither did my mom, who was the one that laid out the extra mattress in my room for Kyle. I loved the idea of him sleeping in my house. I almost wanted to just pick him up and force him to sleep with me just to make things better. And maybe, once upon a time, I would have. But… Kyle was someone I loved too much to force into something he may or may not want to do. So I left it alone.

I was just beginning to drift off when Kyle asked me in a tiny little voice if I would pet his hair, because that always helped him get to sleep. After the surprise of being asked something like that, I leaned over the edge of my bed and threaded my fingers through his gorgeous curls. Even as I did so I loathed where I figured the idea probably came from. After all, his mother and father weren't so close to him; it would have been Stan who pet his hair when he was having trouble sleeping at night.

Almost as if to prove my point, after a few moments of me doing that for him, Kyle started to cry.

Now I had a perfect reason for getting him in my bed. So I pulled my hand away from his head, sat up, bent over, and lifted him up off of his mattress. I remember being… almost shocked by how light he was. I hadn't seen him without his shirt or pants on in a long time, so I had no idea if he was even the right weight, and at that moment I figured he most likely wasn't… who wouldn't lose weight in his situation?

Something else I could blame on Stan.

I put Kyle down on the normally unused portion of my bed and then laid down next to him. He wasn't crying as hard now, and he was watching me intently, almost as if he had no idea what I was about to do. I figured it was pretty obvious. I pulled the covers up over the both of us, got myself settled, and then pulled Kyle close to my body just like the thousands of times before. And just as I'd hoped, he clung to me desperately and sobbed against my shoulder as I resumed petting his hair.

..

Christmas day, like always, was eventful for me. Though even through all of the presents and cookies and specials on TV, everything that made the day stick out in my mind was directly involved with Kyle. In the morning, he woke me up by rubbing my stomach like I was some sort of dog. Which… actually felt kind of nice. Then we spent plenty of time shoving Christmas cookies into each other's mouths. And there was the fun of watching Kyle as he saw the How the Grinch Stole Christmas for the first time in his life. He looked like he was watching a spaceship take off or something – there was nothing but awe on his face.

The best part, though, had to be opening presents. That's always the best part, but Kyle just made it better. He confessed to not knowing what I liked, and therefore he hadn't gotten me anything, but I assured him it was okay. Then I handed him a present I'd gotten him, and after the standard 'I can't take this' bit and my insisting that he had to, he opened it up and pulled out the plush elephant I'd carefully chosen for him.

I was trapped in a hug almost tight enough to snap my spine, and my entire face, save my lips, was covered in sloppy wet kisses.

I expected him to name the thing Stan or something, but much to my delight, he started calling it Eric Elephant. And he promised me that he would snuggle with it every night… in place of the best person in the whole wide world he'd ever snuggled with.

It was sappy, it was cheesy, it was stupid.

But it made me feel so fucking happy.

..

A few weeks later, Kyle came back over to our house, clutching Eric Elephant like he seemed to love doing. We hadn't taken down our decorations yet. It still looked like Christmas, but it was well into the New Year. Kyle didn't seem to mind. In fact, when he saw, he seemed incredibly happy about it. At first I figured it was because he just liked our holiday.

We started walking towards my room, but then Kyle grabbed my arm and stopped me mid-step.

And then he pointed up.

And I didn't even need to look. I knew exactly what it was. I'd forgotten it for a moment, but it was there, alright, and Kyle seemed delighted by that.

Okay, I figured he would make me kiss his elephant, because there was no way he'd be willing to get so close to me already… even though it had been a solid few months.

And then, Kyle did something completely, totally right.

He grabbed my shoulders, pulled me to his level, and he kissed me.

I had finally won.

..

As the months passed, I noticed a ton of significant changes in my life. The first one, obviously, was Kyle. He didn't need to clear it with me that we were in a relationship; we just were, and that was that, and I loved how he'd just decided that on his own. He would sit in my lap in public, run down hallways just to give me a hug and a kiss, pass love notes to me in class, make out with me in the bathrooms, and spend every single moment of free time in my presence.

That, as you know, was my ultimate goal. So I was happier than… well, than I'd ever been before. Now Stan's death was truly validated, all my sacrifices were repaid, and Kyle and I were both experiencing the true joy we deserved.

But there was more than that. Kenny, for starters. He was enraged. I figured, when I started my plan so long ago, that Kenny would be happy for us. I never imaged that he would suspect my involvement in Stan's murder. So when I swooped in and took Kyle, he decided that he hated me. Passionately. And he was constantly trying to convince Kyle to get away from me. I never wanted to hate Kenny, but I had to because of what he was attempting to do.

He would never just stay dead, so it came down to me pushing him into the middle of the street once a day to make up for it.

Besides Kenny, there was the rest of the school, of course. Some said I'd snatched Kyle on the rebound. Some said I was a great person for lifting him out of his depression. Some said he was a lunatic for liking me. None of them made much of an impact on us, but it was interesting, in its own strange little way. And the best part was that when the latter group came around, Kyle's response was always that lunacy turned me on, so it was a win-win situation.

I loved him and his wonderful sense of humor.

Hell, I still do.

To add to the fun, his parents entirely disapproved of the relationship. They allowed it if only because they figured it would help out his depression, but I could tell they hated me. They thought I was some terrible monster who wanted to hurt their precious baby boy… They didn't know what I'd gone through for him, all I'd done for him. They didn't understand how much I loved him.

But they didn't matter. No one mattered except for me and Kyle. We were finally together, finally happy with one another. Sometimes he would start talking of our past, of how terrible I had been, and I would get scared… and then he would warm up and talk about how much I'd changed, and I would know it was all okay because he would never leave me because of my past. He adored me too much. I wasn't sure if he loved me yet, but he was something near it, and that was good enough.

Kyle needed me. I wasn't just a fling or a bridge between depression and happiness; I was his rock, the person he held onto to stay away from the creeping insanity caused by Stan and his death. He wanted to stay with me. He wanted to be by my side just as much as I wanted to be by his. He desired me and everything I could give him. I had truly, honestly won, and no one could take my victory from me. Not Kenny, not the Broflovski family, not the kids at school…

None of them mattered. Only Kyle did.

And he was focused on _me._

..

Every day I found something new to love about Kyle. As the months passed, I felt more and more like that love would never fade, that he and I would be glued to each other for all eternity.

Nothing about him was bad. Nothing about him was wrong. He was just… so… _right._ I could watch him dance, I could watch him clean, I could watch him sleep, all without even a flicker of impatience. Maybe that was bad. I know I was suddenly blowing up on everyone else a lot easier, even my mom. But Kyle couldn't make me mad. Even when he held Eric Elephant up to my face and told me to give him a kiss in that high pitched baby voice, I didn't feel irritated. Didn't mind at all.

If Kyle did it, it was right.

One day he did something that almost made me upset, but… I understood it. It was more of what he'd been misled to believe. He wanted to see Stan's grave, and I realized it was Stan's fault again. He had made himself too important, too special, and now Kyle was thinking about him again and wanting to see him.

But in the end, it was closure.

I was stunned when Kyle knelt by the gravestone and pulled out a small golden ring. He placed it below the stone, beside the dozens of flowers, and then he began to speak. And when he was done telling Stan how he'd loved him, done thanking Stan for all he'd done, and done saying that he was finally moving on, he stood up and pulled me into a passionate kiss. And I tasted tears on his lips, but it was okay. It was just fine.

He was giving himself to me, one hundred percent, fully and completely.

That night, we made love for the first time.

Just when I'd thought I had it all, I'd suddenly gained so much more. Kyle had become mine.

..

On Kyle's twentieth birthday, I gave him an engagement ring. He accepted.

Six months ago, we got married.

Kenny was invited to the wedding, but he never came. Neither did Kyle's mother. But his father was there, and so was Ike, and my mom was there, and Butters was there, and then a ton of others from my family and school. And sitting in the front pews, courtesy of Kyle, were Eric Elephant and Clyde Frog - outfitted in a dress and tuxedo respectively. It was the happiest day of my life. And to make it even better, Kyle wore a dress just like his beloved elephant, and it looked beautiful on him. And that day I finally got something that _proved _he was mine over the night he'd truly given himself to me. We were legally bound to one another. And his last name was legally changed to Cartman, and it was okay because he'd started calling me Eric months before.

Everything I'd gone through, just as I'd suspected, was completely and totally worth it. I finally had what I'd wanted all along. I finally had what I _deserved._

And it was all thanks to Stan Marsh, the little nine-year-old boy who told me my life would be empty and hollow without Kyle in it.

..

Sometimes… I wonder if, maybe, Kyle believed what Kenny told him. Or if he at least suspects that maybe I had something to do with Stan dying. He's never given me any reason to think that… but he's an observational and paranoid little Jew, and maybe, just _maybe, _he accepts that it's a possibility.

I don't think he'll ever leave me. But I'm prepared for it, just in case.

We are perfection. We were everything that is right. He can't leave me, because without him… I don't want to be perfect. I don't want to be right. I don't want a life without him.

If he leaves me, he'll have to die. And I'll go with him.

But he loves me, so he'll never, _ever_ leave me.

..

No one will believe you if you tell them. I'll deny it. Kyle will deny it. Kenny might stick by you, but he's a poor, lonely bastard that no one will believe. So don't try to tell.

I already told you what will happen if you do.

Actually, if you tell anyone, I think death would be too swift for you. You deserve to be tortured. Now, let's see… what would be the best punishment…

Oh, I know. I'll make you eat your parents.

Don't think I won't.

Now get the fuck out of here.

* * *

**Didja like it? I sure hope so, because it's my favorite of my own fics. And I know it's already got like twenty reviews, but if you like it (or don't, I'm not picky), feel free to leave a review. Or, if you're like me and you suck donkey dick at reviewing, go ahead and just fave the thing. Or do both! I like both. **

**Now, a quick moment of silence for Stan, who is a very wonderful character. Cartman, you evil bastard. :c**

**Anyway, I'm busy busy busy writing Kyman (and maybe K2 shhh), so I'm not just sitting on my ass over here, rest assured. Oh, and that project I was working on, if anyone remembers, is basically on major super duper hiatus. So more oneshots for you. Yaaaaaay oneshots.**

***flies away***


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